Heart of Stone
by ScatterSunshine50
Summary: Movie-based. Tigress/Po friendship one-shot.


AN: I actually really hate ripping scenes off right out of the movie, but this part really struck a chord with me, and I had to be a hypocrite, just this once. :) Leave a comment if you can, pretty please.

Disclaimer: I do not own Kung Fu Panda or any of its characters

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><p>Heart of Stone<p>

The night was still and quiet as we floated gently down the river, letting the steady current pilot us as we slept. The only sounds that were able to reach my keen ears were the lapping waves against the boat, and even those seemed peacefully muted.

I could have slept straight through the night if the sound of a sharp cry hadn't startled me awake. Without turning, I already sensed it was Po. Nobody else could make the floorboards creak so heavily as he hurriedly got up and crept out of the small tent we shared. Waiting until he had left, I slowly lifted my head, thoughtfully watching the tent flap sway lightly with each gentle push of the early morning wind. I laid perfectly still, my ears trained for sounds of his movement on the outer deck.

The sound of Po's voice and movements carried, and he wasn't exactly subtle. Then again, nothing about Po was subtle. If everyone else wasn't awake by now, they were too polite or felt too awkward to bring to attention the fact that Po was clearly not himself lately. I was never one to be too concerned about making people feel uncomfortable. But just as I was trained to be aware of the subtle changes in my surroundings, I was aware of the changes in myself. I cared about Po. In a way I still couldn't quite decipher, I wanted to know that he was alright. Po was as resilient as he was open, and he was simply not the type who would be haunted by nightmares.

I crept silently out of the tent we shared, moving soundlessly onto the upper deck until I was standing over him, watching as he shouted at the mast. His defenses were disapprovingly low. He made no effort to lower his voice, and seemed completely unaware of my presence, even though I was standing only a few feet above him. His focus seemed directed solely on the mast, butting his head against it, shouting at it, throwing such unrestrained fury at it, it made me feel both disheartened and slightly annoyed.

"Inner peace inner peace INNER PEACE INNER PEACE!"

"Ahem,"I interjected, loud enough to make him aware of my presence. Po finally looked up, having, at last, realized that he was not alone. I stared down at him with a slightly disapproving look, letting him ride off his embarrassment .

"Oh, uh, I'm, uh...training,"he mumbled pathetically.

The other four would be so much better at this than I was. I would sooner die than admit it, but it was true. While others seemed to understand people as if they were born with the gift, I would sooner reach out to a rock for all the emotion it could get out of me. But if Po wanted to pretend he was out here training, this, I could play along with.

"The mast is not a worthy opponent,"I said evenly, jumping fluidly into the air. I landed solidly on my feet, my arm slowly extending out in front of me. I looked him squarely in the eye, beckoning him to make his move.

"I am ready,"I said calmly. He glanced anxiously to the side and then quickly back at me.

"Okay...so serious,"he mumbled. I stood firm and resolute, my gaze never falling. Po wasn't one to catch on too quickly. It would take more from me to make him understand I wasn't actually trying to train him.

His fist made contact with mine, and I could literally feel the reverberations vibrate through his arm. A second passed, and suddenly he was howling in pain, cradling his swollen paw as he danced in place with exaggerated agitation. A sudden wave of sympathy flashed through me, but it was gone in a second. I stared impassively, watching my friend suffer and still, refusing to let that brief slip-up show in my expression.

"I think I prefer the mast!"he said, looking to me for an explanation. I looked down at my paw, and this time perhaps he was able to see the tiniest hint of an apology in my eyes.

"Apologies,"I accommodated, as sincerely as I could muster, "I used to punch the ironwood trees by the palace to train. Now, I feel nothing."

"That's...severely cool,"he said, managing to find a note of humor even while he continued to tremble. It really wasn't, though. There was nothing "cool" about the way I would relentlessly pound away at the trees until my paws bled, knuckles screaming in pain, bones on the verge of breaking, and still tearing away, determined to make the pain in my hands superfluous to the pain in my heart. Pound, pound, every day, my mind perfectly focused, my body in perfect sync, convinced that if I could erase the pain in my hands, I could erase the pain of the past. I was convinced that numbing myself so that I wouldn't feel anything would be better than having to feel at all.

That was, until I met Po. Po was different. Emotion, tenderness, friendship - these things were precious to him. As long as there was a guarantee that happiness would follow, Po rode out the good and the bad with humor and spirit. I would never be able to explain in word or deed how much I admired him for that. But I knew, simply because I knew I was out here for a reason, that Po had, however unintentionally, touched me. He truly made me feel like his friend. He made me feel wanted. And that was really all I had ever wanted to be.

I allowed the smallest of smiles to grace my face for a brief moment at the compliment, if only to acknowledge my gratitude for his comforting sense of humor. I regained my composure just as quickly as it had dissipated, my brow set in a deep line, my arm once again extended. Back to business.

"Again,"I said, once again stern and serious. He complied, having learned his lesson and delivering smaller, more deliberate punches, focusing more on speed than strength.

"So, uh, this punching ironwood trees?"he asked, kicking a fraction of an inch too high, "How long did you have to do that?

"Twenty years,"I said without hesitation. Twenty long, painful years. Years that a panda wouldn't have a prayer of replicating. Sure enough, the look of crestfallen surprise on his face forced him to slow down for a moment.

"Oh, oh, twenty-twenty years. Yeeh,"he said, much to my expectation, "Is there any, uh, any faster way, before you, uh, don't feel anything?"

"No,"I said, flipping him over for good measure. There was a hint of muted anger behind my words. Not at him. Never at him. Perhaps I still resented him for getting so far with so little training. Maybe the thought of him even attempting to best me angered me, because it put all my hard work to shame. Or maybe I was angered by the very idea that Po, who I so admired for branding his emotions for everyone to see, would even consider aspiring to be like me, someone who cowardly threw away the gift of feeling in exchange for strength. Strength wasn't everything. I learned that from him.

"Besides,"I continued, a little mockingly as he rolled over, "I don't think hard style is really...your thing." Po must have seen the not-so-subtle roll of his belly when he rolled his eyes.

"Oh..." We were done playing around. I knelt down next to him on one knee, looking him in the eye.

"Po, why are you really out here?"I asked calmly. He rolled into a sitting position, looking down at his hands for a moment before answering.

"I just found out my dad...isn't really my dad,"he said finally. I faltered for a moment. This was not what I was expecting to hear.

"Your dad...the goose?"I asked slowly. Po had a kind of sweet, childish naivety about him, but this was bringing it to a level even I couldn't quite comprehend. Still, Po was never one to berate others, and I would honor that. I had to approach this delicately.

"That...must have been quite a shock,"I said carefully. He nodded vigorously in agreement, and I felt myself relax with the knowledge that my answer had been appropriate. I felt a rush of affection sweep through me as I leaned in closer, my voice uncharacteristically soft and caring. I really wasn't being myself.

"And this bothers you?"I asked. There was a beat of silence, but it was all I needed to know the answer to that question.

"Are you kidding me? We're warriors, right? Nerves of steel. Souls of platinum!"he said, laughing nervously, "Like you! So hardcore, you don't feel anything." I barely registered the playful punch on my shoulder. For all the feeling devoid in my body, that comment cut more sharply and more painfully than I had ever felt. It was something I knew, something that I accepted even. But it wasn't something I wanted to hear, especially not from my friend. It was as if he had told me I didn't have feelings.

No, I did have feelings. No matter how many years I had tried to punch them right out of me, they were still there. Maybe I didn't feel as strongly as Po, but then again, I had never met anyone as loud and expressive as Po. Wasn't that the reason I was out here? Because deep down, I cared about my friend? Didn't Po know that was why I was out here?

I stared on in muted frustration and masked hurt as the other four crept out of the tent, offering condolences and making jokes that I would never be able to share. I turned my back to them, too angry with myself to make an attempt to join in. The sun was brightening on the horizon, throwing the valley in a warm, golden light. The city loomed ever closer, and I stood there for a moment, taking in the sheer size of it all.

My brow furrowed into its ever present glare. I sucked in a breath and held it, staring at the warming sky and letting the sun's heat seep into my chilled skin, a comforting respite after a dark, cold night. I suddenly realized that this would be something Po would do - enjoying the sun, just for the sake of enjoying it. I let my expression relax slightly as I realized that Po had, without even knowing it, had taught me how to better indulge in life's simple pleasures. I closed my eyes and allowed myself a brief moment, unnoticed by the others, to let my face and shoulders relax, my fists to unroll from its usual tightened fist, and my heart to soften with the sudden affection I felt sweep over me.

Some day he would know better.


End file.
